County Crimes
by AppleOrchardBanana
Summary: County forensic nurse Claire Harper has always followed the rules and taken care of things on her own without much help. But when recent assaults in her county turn into cross-state murders and she requests help from the FBI, bad things begin to happen and she uncovers much more than she bargained for. Mature content, language, sexual situations, violence.
1. Chapter 1

Claire Belle Harper groaned as she rolled over and grabbed for her ringing cell phone. Her hands splayed out over the bedside table, hurriedly seeking in the dark for the blaring device. She knew it was past midnight, but still way before dawn. It felt like she'd just crawled into bed. In all honesty, she probably had been asleep for two hours. Being on call sucked.

"Hello?" She said groggily, turning the greeting into a question.

"Harper, we need you to come in. This time it's for real." The gruff tone on the other end sounded stern, but his words were remorseful, promising it would be worth it this time. The previous call she'd taken had turned out to be a fake. It was an occupational hazard that came with being the only forensic nurse available within a fifty mile radius covering a hospital and multiple opportunities for violence and disaster in a small rural town.

"OK, Thomas, be there in about 15 minutes," she mumbled back into the phone.

"Drive safe," he said before hanging up.

She slowly rolled out of bed and stepped straight into the puddle of her light blue scrub pants, pulling them up to her waist and tying the drawstrings tight. She fished around in the dark again before finding her scrub top. She pulled it over her head tucked it into her scrub bottoms before slipping her cell phone into her pocket. The light in the bathroom was bright in her eyes as she stood in front of the sink and quickly brushed her teeth. The French braid she'd done at the beginning of the night before laying down the very first time was still intact. She smoothed the mix of black and gray flyaways back from her face and patted her cheeks before switching off the light and walking back through the bedroom and into the kitchen. She grabbed her keys and headed out the front door.

Black Water, Virginia, was a small town much like any other. Much of the real estate, businesses, and incorporated areas were considered "county" property, the area was so small. There was a Walmart, a small hotel, a mom and pop diner, a bar, post office, mechanic shop, locksmith, and the old library. The old police station was built originally in the mid 1800s and was in bad need of renovations, but instead stood with patch jobs here and there; whatever the county could afford to spare. Typical small town stuff. It was just boring enough to encourage the usual mischievous accidents and dark crimes depicted of low socioeconomic, low educated populations. Kids overdosing on drugs, some small time explosives, break ins and robberies, child abuse, and the routine sexual assault cases.

Claire's job as a forensic nurse dragged her all over the county. She was employed by the county coroner's office and spent a lot of time on call or on the field. The coroner was called to all sites of domestic violence, child abuse and elder abuse, murders, suspicious deaths, and anything that could turn into any kind of litigation. This night she was on call for the hospital acting in the role of the sexual assault nurse examiner, a role that she had worked hard to achieve and maintain – more so than her work at the coroner's office – but also one that was stressful and depressing.

She pulled into the small parking lot of the hospital and turned her car off before walking inside. She never knew what she was walking into. The call she'd gotten earlier in the night had been reported as a sexual assault, but after she got there and started investigating and speaking with the victim, it turned out to be a young teenager who was pregnant but didn't want her parents to know she was having sex. Her way out was to fake being raped. After multiple episodes of questioning and changing her story several times, she finally came clean. Teenage pregnancies were not uncommon in the small town, and safe sex practices were never spoken of. The general population felt more compelled to simply ignore the subject altogether, leaving active teenagers ignorant of how to prevent pregnancies and sexually transmitted illnesses. The entire culture made Claire want to pull her hair out.

"How's it going, Thomas?" Claire asked as she scanned her badge and let herself into the emergency department. Thomas was a gruff, large man with a receding hairline. He was the nursing supervisor for the night shift and was frequently the one Claire spoke with whenever there was a sexual assault case. He acted like he bristled easily, but Claire knew he was really a softie with two daughters at home. He didn't play.

"This is definitely the real deal, it sounds a lot like a few other cases we've had recently, but I'll let you make your own assumptions without any preconceived notions." Whenever the patients were brought in to the emergency department, the staff always did their own assessments while they waited for her to arrive. Vital signs, quick physical, and some lab work was drawn before she even got to the hospital. There was always a rape kit waiting for her on the counter behind the nurse's station.

She grabbed the clipboard from behind the desk along with the small case and walked to the back. She rarely liked to hear any details before speaking to the patients herself. It helped her from steering her questions a certain way or from anticipating. She walked to the back and saw a man in a police uniform standing outside of an exam room.

"Caleb," she said to him in greeting.

"Claire," he responded. "Sorry to see you having to come in tonight." He tried his best to give a slight smile, but it didn't reach his green eyes. His brown hair was messy, like he'd been running his fingers through it.

"Me, too." They always had an officer standing watch in the E.D. for these types of cases. Safety was top priority, and they never knew when a suspect may arrive and decide to finish the job. She walked in and pulled a curtain to reveal a young woman sitting on the exam table.

"Hello, Miss Myers? I'm Claire Harper. I'm a forensic nurse for the hospital. I'm here to speak with you and collect some samples, if that would be alright."

The young woman seemed to shiver. Tracks were running down her face where she'd been crying. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. She only nodded in response.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you. I know you've already told everyone what happened multiple times, but is there anyway you can tell me again, in detail? This will really help with our investigation."

"I'll try my best," she said, her voice quivering.

"Did you know who did this?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Do you think you can tell me what happened? Start from the beginning."

She seemed to take a long breath before beginning. "I was asleep and then I heard a sound. I realized it was the sound of my doorknob turning – it always makes this clicking noise. At first I thought it must have just been the sound of settling, but then I heard a floorboard creak. I guess I didn't understand what was happening since I was just coming out of sleep, but before I could do anything, a hand grabbed my ankle and pulled me over onto my stomach. I tried fighting but he was on my back. I couldn't do anything. I felt something cold and metal on my neck, I don't know if it was a knife or a gun. It was too dark for me to tell. It didn't take long for him to…finish… but I felt something sharp on my shoulder, like a lot of pressure. The nurse said it looked like a bite mark. After that, he got up and ran out."

"Did he say anything while you were there?"

"No, he didn't. And as soon as he left I looked for my phone to call the police, but it wasn't on my bedside table where I left it. It was across the room on my dresser, like he knew where it was and moved it further away."

"Have you met anyone new recently? Anything that happened recently that is out of the ordinary for you?"

"No, I work as a waitress at Pierce's, so we always have people coming and going, but nothing weird or different."

"Any boyfriends or male friends that you may have turned down advances on?"

"No, no. This is a small town. Everyone already knows everyone. There's nothing new happening. I've kind of met and gone through most of the men here." She sniffled and looked a bit sheepish. "Maybe that's why this has happened."

Claire put a hand on her shoulder. "You didn't do anything to deserve this. May I take a look at your shoulder?" The woman nodded at her. Claire pulled a corner of the gown down to take a look. Sure enough, it was a pretty serious bite mark. It was gnarly and bloody, more than just a bite, but almost like a tearing. "I'm going to take a picture of this." She pulled a polaroid camera out of her bag and a small paper ruler. She held the ruler up to the marks and took several pictures from different angles, being sure to get multiple pictures with the ruler showing the size of the marks. "Now I'll need to take some samples. This is going to be uncomfortable, but these will help us identify who did this to you." She helped the young woman lay back while she set up her kit. Various different sized cotton swabs and containers with fluids in them stared back at her. DNA collection was vital for positive suspect identification. She took multiple different tissue swabs, while assessing the area for trauma. She would have to document and file a report after she was finished.

A few minutes later she was packing up the kit and leaving the young woman to redress. She carried the kit out, never taking her eyes off it as she went to the back to sit down and write up her report. She was clicking away on the keyboard when Caleb came by.

"This is the fourth one like this for this month."

"What was happening at the house? Any sign of forced entry?" Claire asked him, looking up from the computer.

"Nothing. She swears she locked her door, but you know how people are around here. They're not used to having to lock doors. Her house backs up to a wooded area, so they were probably able to get out pretty fast that way. We couldn't see much in the dark, but we're planning to canvas the area at first light and make sure we didn't miss anything. We weren't able to find any prints, footprints. It's the same as the other two."

"What about the bite marks?"

"What about them?"

"This one looks worse to me than the others, and there's more trauma. It's like he's getting more aggressive. At this rate we're going on one per week. I'm worried we have a serial rapist."

Caleb shook his head at her. "Let's not go there yet."

"I feel like it's escalating. There will probably be another one by the end of next week."

"Have we gotten any results back on the DNA samples?"

"Not yet." She was getting frustrated. In their small county they had to send the samples to a larger facility. The county wouldn't give them permission to expedite. The turn around on the DNA samples was four weeks.

"We'll just have to wait and see if we have the same DNA. Maybe we'll find something tomorrow that will help us find this guy."

"I hope so."

"I've got to get back out there. I'll see you later, Claire."

"Have a good night, Caleb."

"Lock your doors when you get home, OK?"

Several days had passed and Claire was at the county coroner's office. Well, it was the coroner's office, the county health department, and the county department of human services. Her standard office was in this small, run down building. As the only forensic nurse for the county, her duties covered multiple areas, including sexual assault, abuse cases, and investigating unusual deaths for the coroner's office. She was compiling documentation on a neglect case for a home she'd just visited that afternoon. The place really should have been condemned, but the best they could do at the moment was to remove the children from the home. She was sorting the paperwork, filing pictures, and documenting everything she'd seen.

She was still agitated about the recent police response to the sexual assaults, but it wasn't unusual. Nothing seemed to happen fast enough for her in the small town. Most people were content to go about their business. For the male police force, they often looked for a reason to blame the victim. Everyone knew everyone in the area and were quick to shift blame. Despite attempts to keep the victims' identities closed, word travelled. It wasn't long before people started to point out how many people each woman had "gotten with" or the looseness of their character.

Donna, the receptionist, seemed to be staring at the television. She tutted at the screen.

"There's some crazy people in this world."

Claire's ears perked up.

"The body was found just across state lines, but is being investigated for the strange bite marks found on the victim's shoulders."

Claire stood up from her desk so quickly the legs shifted across the floor.

"Police say they haven't been able to identify the woman yet, but are asking locals to report anyone they believe to be missing, and they hope that someone from the public will come forward with information."

She felt her neck getting hot. It hadn't been five days since she'd told Caleb that she was concerned that the assaults were escalating. At the time she felt like he'd brushed her off, not wanting to believe it was that serious. The men in the town never really understood – it wasn't them being violated, after all. She opened and closed her fists in anger, wondering if the woman who was found tossed in the woods could have been saved if she'd been taken seriously.

It was like a lightbulb went off in her head. The body was found in West Virginia. She was sure this was connected to the serial rapings in her own town in Virginia. She sat down at her desk and did a quick google search before picking up her phone and dialing a number.

"Yes, this is Claire Harper of the Copiah county coroner's office in Black Water, Virginia. We have some open cases here that we believe to be linked to a recent murder in Virginia and are seeking the assistance and resources of the FBI."


	2. Chapter 2

_She didn't know where she was, but she was aware that somewhere a child was crying. She turned and began running down a long, dimly lit corridor. She looked in each room as she passed by, but every room was empty. It wasn't a hospital; she knew that. She was nearing the end of the hallway when suddenly everything shifted, and the walls changed. She was standing in front of a brown, wooden door. It was particle board, cheap stuff. The walls were textured with chair railing running horizontally in the center. She realized she was in her childhood home - trailer. The crying was just inside the next room._

_ She tentatively put her hand on the door and allowed it to slowly open with a creak. Inside was her childhood bedroom, an old, twin size mattress on the floor, no sheets, only an old blanket and a single pillow. Hostess snack wrappers were strewn around on the floor. Her old stuffed bear lay beside the mattress. There were holes in the floor where the flooring had rusted away, and she could see the dirt ground underneath. She saw someone – a body – laying inside the closet, the person's face just hidden from view. The crying was so loud, it must have been inside her head. _

_ The thin floor creaked and cracked as she made the few steps it took to cross the tiny room. She looked down at the person in the closet and saw her own face, a rope tied tight around her neck, her blue eyes wide and lifeless, her gray streaked black hair matted and disheveled. She realized the crying was coming from her own mouth. She looked down and saw her six-year-old body. She was wearing her old princess gown, one she wore for years and years until it finally shredded. _

_ There was a sound behind her, and she turned and saw him – angry eyes, clenched fists. She could smell the alcohol on him, even though she was far too young to have ever needed to recognize the smell. She couldn't stop crying. She knew what was going to happen next – what always happened next. She was shaking from head to toe._

_ "Stop crying you little whore," he growled at her. "I'm about to give you something to cry about."_

_ A clenched fist descended on her._

She was startled awake by loud barking and a heavy body jumping on top of her. A wet tongue licked her face and she was brought back to reality. She tried to slow her breathing as Archie tried to sit directly on her chest, nearly knocking her laptop to the floor in the process.

"OK, it's OK," she said, but she wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or to Archie. He nuzzled his shaggy golden head to her neck, breathing heavily. Her hands when to the fur at the nape of his neck.

She hadn't had dreams about it in months. Years of therapy hadn't erased the past, but it had helped her develop coping strategies to at least live a fairly normal life. She'd been able to get her nursing degree, then her master's, and had begun establishing herself in a career where she could help other people – people like the little girl she once was. But it was difficult to build up a good rapport. She didn't like to stay in the same place for too long and didn't want to venture into bigger cities – too easy to be found and recognized.

It also made it difficult to build and maintain relationships. She didn't see the point in meeting people and being social when she wasn't planning on being in one place for more than a year or so. She had Archie to keep her company. He understood her better than any human would, anyway.

"OK, Archie," she said as she patted his head and wiggled to get him to jump off. She looked at her laptop and saved her document she'd been working on. One of the positives to not having any social life was having plenty of free time. It had allowed her to easily complete her master's degree in forensic nursing, and now she was nearing the end of her doctorate in nursing degree.

The laptop closed with a _slap _as she stood up and walked to the cabinet. It had been a while since she'd taken anything for anxiety, but with the recent stress and the nightmare, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise. She popped a pill into her mouth and drank some water.

"Let's go, Archie," she said as she walked into her bedroom, his nails clicking on the linoleum behind her. She locked her bedroom door and checked the windows before they both hopped into bed.

* * *

"This one is pretty local, so I'm happy we won't have to travel too far," JJ said as she slid the folders out around the table.

"Black Water?" Emily Prentiss said as she scanned over the information listed on the first page.

"It's only about an hour from here," Spencer Reid said from across the table. "It's only a small blip on the map, to the northwest of us. Only about another hour west and you'll make it to West Virginia."

"I guess this means we won't be taking the jet this time?" Derek Morgan said.

"Definitely not. I doubt there's a landing strip anywhere near Black Water," JJ said.

"So this is related to the body they found in West Virginia?" This was from Aaron Hotchner, the lead detective of the team.

"Yes, so, I received a call yesterday from the county forensic nurse for Copiah county, the county that Black Water is located in. Her name is Claire Harper, and she'll be the one we'll meet up with. She said they've been dealing with what she is convinced is a serial rapist. The attacks were getting worse and worse but she wasn't getting any assistance from the department there. She was sure it was related to the body that was found in West Virginia."

They opened their folders and a small business card with a smiling woman stared out to them from the corner of the small booklet. She had long, black hair with streaks of gray growing out from her temples and tucked behind her ears. Her bright blue eyes stood out from her pale face, framed by dark, thick lashes. Her smile was wide and professional but didn't seem to reach her eyes. _Claire Harper, MSN, RN-SANE, Forensic Nurse,_ was listed on her card with a cell number and email address.

"Pretty woman," Morgan noted.

"How many rapes are we talking about?" Reid asked.

"It was four in Copiah county, one per week, and then the murder victim was found about a week after the last one. She told me they all had similar bite wounds present." She held up two photos of bite marks on different women's shoulders. "She said the last rape that she attended to was the worst yet, with more genital trauma and a deeper bite than she'd seen."

"She was concerned about escalation."

"I also got the feeling when speaking to her that she felt like there wasn't enough being done to name a suspect. She felt like the police team was unconcerned."

"Does she have the authority to contact us?" Morgan asked.

"She works for the county coroner's office," JJ said with a shrug. "Regardless, it's federal now that it's across state lines."

"Small town crimes are simple and complex at the same time. The locals probably won't want to speak to us. They may even be in denial that there's any problem at all. The suspect is probably someone that they've lived with for years. There may even be other things that turn up." Spencer Reid said all of this while quickly surveying the documents in front of him.

"Let's all go grab our things and meet back here in about an hour. We'll head out and hopefully resolve this case pretty quickly."

* * *

Claire tapped a pen on her desk anxiously, waiting for the arrival of the behavioral analysis unit. The local law enforcement had not been happy to hear that she'd called federal agents in on their turf. Even Jerry, the coroner, whom she shared a building and call duties with, had been shooting glances at her. She knew what they'd been saying.

_Does she think we don't know how to do our jobs?_

_ She's not even from around here, what gives her the right to call in someone else?_

_ Those women probably deserved it. I knew all of them. They were practically asking for it._

_ She needs to get out of our business and get back in the kitchen._

Much of the law enforcement and local government personnel were predominantly male, and they didn't think much of her involvement. Small town stereotypes still lived and breathed in Black Water. The only reason why she'd even been hired there was because the jurisdiction was so large, but it was cheaper to hire on a forensic nurse to help the county than to split the area up and have to hire multiple individuals – males who would demand more of a salary. She was used to small towns. She grew up in one and had been hopping from small town to small town since she'd finished her bachelor's in nursing degree – trying to never stay in one place longer than 18 months. It was better this way. She'd learned to ignore the sexist comments, try her best to do her job that she was there to do, while trying to force local law enforcement's hand in naming and arresting suspects of neglect, child abuse, and sexual assault cases. It didn't usually work in her favor. The suspects were typically well-known individuals in the community. "Child abuse" was usually chalked up to good old-fashioned discipline, and sexual assault cases were met with the throwing up of hands and a "boys will be boys" sentiment. She didn't know what else to do.

She heard the sound of car tires on gravel and glanced out the window. She was livid that her concerns weren't being taken seriously and grasped the opportunity to call in back up. It was still beyond her why the local police force couldn't see that the cases in their county and the murder in West Virginia were linked. Maybe they just didn't want to believe. She stood from her desk and walked to the front to see four individuals walking through the front doors. They all looked around with squinted eyes, taking in the scene and surely wondering if they'd been dropped on the set of _Deliverance_.

"Hello, I'm Claire Harper," she said as she stretched out her hand to the young woman closest to her. "Are you JJ?"

"Yes, that's me, we spoke on the phone," she had blue eyes and blonde hair, but stood a few inches taller than Claire's 5'2". "These are agents Hotchner and Morgan, and Dr. Reid." She motioned to the team. Hotchner, a tall man in his late 40s, nodded at her, his dark hair and suit seemed all business. Morgan nodded at her also, but his face seemed relaxed and put her at ease. Dr. Reid was also taking in the room with his large brown eyes but waved awkwardly at her from his place in the back.

"Do you have somewhere we can set up for a central command?" Hotchner asked her.

"Yes, right this way," Claire said and motioned for them to follow her. "It's a small room, but it should be alright. We do have WiFi, I can get you the password. It's slow, so I do apologize. It's difficult to get good service around here."

"We'll make it work," Morgan said. The room was a twelve-by-twelve room with an oval table in the center. The walls were covered in wood paneling, and the carpet still had green shag from the 1970s. The chairs were green to match and had random fraying edges and questionable stains that had been there for years.

"A chalkboard," Dr. Reid said, his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants as he surveyed the blackboard. "Haven't seen one of these in a while."

"Yes, and here's some chalk," she pulled a box of the white sticks off a filing cabinet and set them on the table. Claire hated the way her hands felt after touching chalk. Even just touching the box had her wiping her hands on her scrub bottoms.

"Do you have copies of the paperwork on the sexual assaults? Or would that be at the police station?" Hotchner asked.

"I have copies of my documentation from my assessments and evidence collections, but the police reports are at the station. I don't receive copies of those, but they receive copies of my paperwork." She said this with a strained smile, as if there was more she wanted to say, but was minding what company she was in.

"Reid and Morgan will stay and go over the documents you have here. JJ and I will go visit the police station and get copies of the police reports they have. Can you tell us where it's located? Our GPS is on the fritz out here."

"Sure, it's pretty easy to find, I actually can draw you a map," Claire spoke as she began to walk out of the room, Hotchner and JJ following.

Spencer Reid and Derek Morgan began to pull out their laptops, setting up the cords and getting everything booted up.

"Man, this place is something else," Morgan said as he entered his password on the laptop. "I keep expecting to hear the twang of a banjo playing somewhere."

"This is considered to be deep Appalachia," Reid began talking. "The families that lived and settled here hundreds of years ago likely make up the largest portion of the population. In parts of this area there are also stories of incest, leading to some interesting genetic tendencies. They will likely not be open to who they term "outsiders" coming into their areas and asking questions, possibly disrupting a delicate balance they've had for multiple generations."

"So, it is like _Deliverance_," Morgan said.

"What's _Deliverance?" _Reid asked.

"It's a thriller based on two men who go canoeing in rural Georgia and end up being attacked by the locals there. It ends up being a story of their fight to get out alive," Claire said as she set down a stack of files. "It actually doesn't sound that far off to me, either."

"You haven't worked here long?" It was partially a question, partially a statement from Morgan.

"No, I've been here about four months. It's a big job, really too big for two people. I was hired to help the county coroner's office, so I split the call with the coroner. It was cheaper for them than splitting it into multiple jurisdictions, which really would have been better. It's cheaper to pay a forensic nurse than to hire more coroners," she looked at them sheepishly as she passed them the files.

"What can you tell us about the culture here?" Reid asked.

"Let's see, where to begin?" Her mouth thinned to an uneasy smile. "My job encompasses abuse and neglect cases, questionable deaths, and sexual assaults and rapes. The incompetency of the force here is astounding." She said this in a hushed whisper. "Sure, they don't have a lot of the fancy resources that bigger towns may have, but it's like they don't even _care_. The child abuse cases I see are often written off as discipline, even in extreme cases. They don't pursue the perpetrators. Everyone says it's the same as what their parents did to them." She rubbed her arms as goosebumps broke out. "I disagree, but I have no one to back me up. So, it contributes to a pattern of abuse. Lately we've had a lot of issues with the opioid epidemic, and I know it's all related – people are wanting an escape. The school system up here is awful. Literacy is low, drop out rates are high. Poverty is a problem. Teen pregnancy is getting worse because no one talks to them about safe sex – or maybe no one knows what that even is. It's no big deal when a girl gets pregnant and has to drop out of school to take care of the baby, and then her boyfriend drops out too and starts working at the gas station or Walmart, because that's probably where they would have ended up anyway."

Dr. Reid looked at her with sympathetic eyes. Morgan was listening as if he were taking notes in his mind.

"I'm sorry, that's probably more than you wanted to know. I've only ever worked in small towns, so you would think I would be used to it, but lately I can't seem to shake it off."

"No, this is good information," Reid said as he opened the first folder. "So, what was it about these rapes that lead you to call us?"

"I've always had a problem with the police taking anything seriously. Everyone knows everyone here, so when the first woman came forward, all the officers started talking about her sexual history, who she'd been with, how often, basically saying she deserved it. It happened to the next one, and the next one, and they started getting increasingly more violent. I sent off for DNA samples, but it takes so long to get anything back out here, and the coroner wouldn't give me permission to expedite them. The fourth one was the most violent yet, in terms of trauma, but also the bite marks were getting worse. The fourth one literally looked like she had a bite taken out of her. I told Caleb, the officer that was there that night, but he just brushed me off. Then I saw on the news about that murder… I can't help feeling like if we'd acted more quickly it wouldn't have happened."

"It sounds like you did everything you could," Morgan said.

"A lot of these small towns get upset if you buck the system," Reid added. "They don't like feeling like someone thinks they can't do their jobs, even when all signs point to them needing help."

"They're definitely not happy with me, but I'm just worried this might happen again, and faster."

Aaron Hotchner had been to towns like Black Water before, and he knew how it was going to go before he even went into the police department.

"They really aren't going to like that we're here," JJ said as she eyed the building. Like many of the other buildings in the town, it was over a hundred years old and in bad disrepair.

"Regardless of what they like or dislike, this is our case now," Hotch said as he turned off the engine. "If they don't cooperate, we'll charge them with obstruction of justice and take this whole town over." They got out of the SUV and walked into the building, displaying their badges.

"I'm FBI agent Aaron Hotchner, and this is agent Jennifer Jareau. We're here investigating a series of rapes we believe to be connected to a murder in West Virginia. We'd like to see the police reports you have."

The dispatch officer looked from their badges and back at their faces, before making a show of slowly standing up. "Let me get my commanding officer for you." The man walked in a room to the back and they heard the exchange of voices before the first man emerged with a second man.

"I'm chief of police, Earl Vance," the older man said, extending his hand to the agents. "What can I help you two with?"

"We're here with the FBI investigating the series of sexual assaults that have occurred in your jurisdiction. They could be connected with the recent body found in West Virginia."

"Claire called ya, didn't she?" he said, looking them up and down. "All of this is one big misunderstanding. This isn't a serial offender. I know all of those women, and it sounded to us like maybe a date gone wrong or something."

"We'll be the judges of that," JJ said.

"We'll be needing copies of all the police reports from those incidents, as well as any documentation, photographs, evidence, and eyewitness accounts you may have."

"It may take us some time to process all that," Vance said, "Our system isn't as up to date as you all are probably used to. We're still on the old paper system."

"Then maybe we can help you find where things are filed away. We were hoping to collect everything we needed and resolve this case quickly."

"Come back in a couple days and we'll have everything you need."

"Chief," Hotch said, "We'll be needing these things immediately. I'd hate to feel as though this were impeding our investigation."

Vance looked at him, studying his face and demeanor quietly before turning back to the first officer. "Brady, get them what they need and get them out of here."

"We appreciate your cooperation, Chief."

"So there's been four in one month?" Morgan asked as he looked back at some paperwork.

"That I know of," Claire said, tucking her black hair behind her ear. Her streaks of early grays felt wiry in contrast, and definitely not welcome on her thirty-year-old head. "I only know of those because I was on call for them, so I was the responder."

"Who else would have responded?" Reid asked.

"Jerry, the coroner. We have a call schedule where we trade off after hour duties. He was doing it all himself before I was hired a few months ago. We don't really communicate on what goes on when the other is on call. They don't seem to like involving me in anything extra that goes on." She seemed to bristle at this. Reid watched as she continued to smooth her hair behind her ears, as if that could help bring something into focus.

"Don't they have to document these things?" Reid asked.

"If they're following protocol."

"So, there could be more? How would those have gone unnoticed?"

She looked straight at him, her blue eyes framed by dark lashes and standing in stark contrast to her pale skin. "The men in this town have a certain bias when it comes to any kind of sex crime. Specifically, they don't believe in them. They will use any excuse to discredit the victims. They'll include what the woman was wearing, where they were, if alcohol was involved, but only so they can build a case against the woman. And if they've had any prior relationship with the perpetrator, it's definitely not forced."

"And they would never fill you in on what's going on on your off shift because you've gone against them on something previously, right?"

She chewed at the corner of her lip. "They don't appreciate being questioned by anyone, especially not a woman."


	3. Chapter 3

Reid could tell from the way Claire was standing that she was worried about being involved in their investigation.

"You don't have to leave," Morgan had told her.

"This is all your documentation," Reid had agreed. "It's nothing confidential and private that you haven't seen or heard before." He flipped to the next page. "Sometimes we have people stay if we think we may have questions about their documentation, like something wasn't clearly written. I can say that doesn't seem to be the case here. Your documentation reads like a story. It's quite engrossing." He flipped to the next page.

"Are you looking for something in particular? Something I can help you find, save some time?"

"Some specifics, but really just reading it for description and context. Maybe any patterns that we can discern." He flipped the page.

"No, I mean, you're flipping through so fast, you have to be looking for something in particular, right?"

"Wonder boy can read 20,000 words per minute," Morgan said. "And he'll remember every word of it."

She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly seeming to shrink away. "If I'd known someone would be looking at it so closely, I would have taken better care with it."

"It's really fine," Reid assured her. She looked uncomfortable to be there, as if she were under scrutiny and they weren't simply reading her documentation.

Morgan picked up his phone and dialed a number. "Hey sweet lips," he said to whomever was on the other line. "I've got something I need you to check for me."

"Do you think Agent Hotchner will bring copies of the police reports?" she asked Dr. Reid.

"Hopefully," Reid said. "This case is a little different from normal. Under usual circumstances we would set up at the police department, so we wouldn't need copies, we would just pull the files. Or we would have our IT analyst look them up and send them to us electronically, which is what Morgan's trying to do right now."

"Good luck with that," Claire told him. "The police records are still all paper. They haven't made the switch to electronic."

"Huh," he sat back in his chair and brought his pen to his mouth. "That does make things more complicated."

"Well, it looks like you guys have it covered here," she said. "I've got a few things I need to work on in my office. But I'm just the next room over if you have any questions."

"Sure, sure," Reid said. "You'll let us know if anything else comes up?"

"Of course," she said, then kind of rolled her eyes and dropped her voice. "I'm not exactly working on _work _work, it's actually homework. Sometimes I do it here because I have a pretty good bit of downtime with them not wanting to send cases my way."

"What's your homework on?"

"It's my dissertation. I'm working on my doctorate in nursing. I've been able to complete a large portion of it here. I should be ready to defend in a couple of months."

"That's really great. What's your dissertation on?"

He saw a visible change in her facial expressions. Her bright eyes seemed to light up even more. She dropped her arms to her sides. "It's a statistical analysis of children who are victims of abuse or neglect. I'm trying to create information to better predict children and families who are at risk for domestic issues to better educate the public and health agencies."

"So, you're a profiler."

She smirked at him. "I wouldn't call myself that. But I guess it does kind of sound similar."

"Will you let me read your dissertation?"

"Sure, after I finish it." She smiled widely at him, the first true smile he'd seen from her. "Well, I guess I'll let you get to your work, Dr. Reid."

"Spencer," he corrected her.

"Spencer," she repeated with a slight nod, before turning and walking out.

Reid felt a sharp pinch on his upper arm. "Ouch," he said, jerking away.

"Look at that," Morgan said as he laid the phone on the table.

"What?"

"You got a thing for her?" he asked as he wagged his eyebrows at him.

"Just being nice."

"Whatever you say, Reid," Morgan responded. "I asked Garcia to check police records for any other recent episodes that we may have not been aware of. She said she couldn't find anything."

"I'm not surprised," Reid said as he went back to the papers. "They're still on a paper system, according to Claire."

"_Claire,_" Morgan mocked in a sing-song voice.

Spencer only rolled his eyes and looked back down at his work.

* * *

"I mapped all of the sites, and there doesn't seem to be any correlation for each of the victim's houses," Dr. Reid said as he pushed a map out on the table in front of them. "This doesn't include the body that was found. We sent off for DNA samples, maybe that will help identify her and whoever sexually assaulted her as well."

Claire was trying to listen but was distracted by the way his purple paisley tie was clashing with his grey and black polka dotted button up and maroon sweater. He pushed his hair behind his ears awkwardly, as if he could feel her watching him.

"We also sent off to hopefully get dental records from the victim and for the bite marks."

"Bold of you to assume anyone around here has ever been to a dentist," Claire said.

He looked at her, the corner of his lip drawing back, creating a dimple in his cheek.

"I'm sorry," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I'm just agitated."

When Chief Agent Hotchner and JJ had returned from their trip, she'd been fired up.

"I want to know the process for filing a grievance against this department," she'd said, her neck and cheeks hot like they'd touched flame. "A grievance against the whole county!" She'd been flabbergasted by the reports he'd brought back with him.

_Woman states she had been drinking for hours prior to the alleged assault._

_ Could not identify time._

_ Story changed several times during report._

_ Witnesses place subject at Last Call bar prior to encounter. States she was wearing a jean mini skirt and striped tube top._

"There was no information in any of the reports that could point to any form of a suspect!"

"I know you are upset, you have every right to be," Hotchner said. "Let's try to keep it together. We're all working under the gun here, so let's try and keep what semblance of calm and cooperation we have. After all this is over, I can assist you with the paperwork you'll need."

"Garcia was able to get us more details about the victim that was found in West Virginia," JJ reported. "It looks like the cause of death was strangulation, after the sexual assault. We don't have a positive ID on her yet, but we are searching the missing person's data base to see what we can find."

"It says that the victim was found without undergarments on," Spencer said. "Was that common with the others?"

"It wasn't noted in the police reports."

"And no forced entry noted on the reports either," Morgan said.

"The victims' statements are very sparse." Spencer flipped through the copies of the police reports. "It's almost like they didn't even ask them anything."

"We'll need to go back and speak with them, see if we can conduct a proper interview and get some real statements," JJ said.

Hotchner looked down at his watch. "It's getting late, too late to go calling at this time."

"They're probably at work anyway," Claire told him. "I know the last victim works at the gas station, the 3-11 shift most days of the week. I think the others worked later times too, if I can remember correctly. One worked at a bar, the other at Walmart."

"Let's call it for tonight," Hotch addressed the group. "We'll meet back here in the morning. Our agenda for tomorrow will be to make contact with the previous victims and get some real statements. Maybe then we'll have some real details to work with."

Everyone began packing up their things.

"Hey, sweetheart," Morgan said to Claire. "Where do people usually grab something to eat around here?"

She thought for a minute. "You'll probably want to go to Rooster's. It's in the next county, but you guys will be less noticeable there."

"Sounds like a good plan," Derek Morgan replied. "You want to come with us?"

"I'll come along for a bit," she said. "I'll just grab my purse. You guys can follow me in my car."

It was a twenty-minute drive to Rooster's, but probably for the best. It was in the next county, where news of the BAU presence hopefully hadn't spread. Even if it did, maybe they could go unrecognized. They parked their vehicles and got out of the cars.

They walked up the front steps and through the porch into the main building. It looked like a hunting lodge, with dim lights and animal heads mounted on the walls. Everything was wooden – the walls, the floor, the ceiling, all the furniture. The bar area was bright with fluorescent lights glinting off the various bottles.

"So, what do we have here?" Morgan asked as they began to sit down.

"Burgers, fries, beer," Claire said. "That's pretty much it."

"Not known for their variety?" Reid asked her.

"No, one thing I can say is that areas like this are predictable. It's almost comfortable, I think, if you stay a while. You learn the flow, and what to expect. What's expected of you. Normally it's not too much. Standards are set low."

"You said it was part of an over all system failure. The county and cities and town education system are poor, which sets people up for failure in life. Then, the family issues permeate. No one expects their children to achieve more than they have."

Claire nodded. "It's just a general feeling of never being able to leave a place, mostly related to their circumstances. But I think a lot of them are content with it. They don't know any differently, so they don't care about anything else. It's all about perspective, like being boiled alive. You don't realize you're boiling if the water heats slowly enough."

They all ordered burgers and fries and beer.

"You said you were getting your doctorate in nursing, right?" Reid asked Claire. "So, I'm assuming you've taken some sort of philosophy course?"

"That's right."

"I have a very funny philosophy joke."

"Come on, Reid," Morgan groaned as he took a drink from his beer.

"It's very short," he responded.

"You said that last time."

"No, it's OK," Claire said. "Let's hear it."

"Right, so here it goes… Descartes is sitting at a bar and finishes his drink. The bar tender comes by and asks him if he'd like another. Descartes says, 'I think not,' and disappears." Spencer began to chuckle to himself.

Morgan and JJ looked at him. They both took a drink from their beers.

"Oh, I get it," Claire said. "'I think, therefore I am.' So, I think not, therefore I am not."

Now Morgan and JJ looked at each other. "Wait, is this happening?"

"I think it is," Morgan responded to her.

"Welp, here it goes." They clinked their bottles together before upending them.

"What are you guys doing?" Claire asked.

"It's just a little drinking game we play," Morgan said whenever he had finished his beer.

JJ put hers down also. "Every time Reid makes a joke or says something we don't understand, we take a drink."

"If someone around us understands what he's talking about, we finish our drinks."

"We rarely finish our drinks."

The waitress came through, replacing their drinks and passing out burgers and fries. Spencer could see a rosy hue coming through Claire's cheeks and on the tip of her nose. She was on her second beer, and he figured she must not drink often.

They all began eating, with small talk here and there, and more rounds of drinks. No one mentioned the case, and they all seemed to be relaxed.

"So, Dr. Spencer Reid, what is your doctorate in?" Claire asked as she took a drink from her third beer.

"I actually have doctorates in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I have bachelor's in psychology and sociology, and I'm working on philosophy."

"It must not be too difficult to obtain three doctorates when you can read 20,000 words a minute and have a photographic memory."

His mouth stretched into a tight smile. "No, I guess it hasn't been too difficult."

"Do you feel like you use your education in your everyday life?"

"In one way or the other. It all comes together to help me analyze human behavior. The memory part is probably the most useful, but psychology and sociology, definitely. And the chemistry, math, and engineering – it's just simple logic, but again, important for behavior analysis."

"'Simple logic,' huh?" she asked. She shook her hair back from her neck. She could tell he was watching her, but after three beers she didn't feel nervous, nor did she shy away. On the contrary, she reached her hand out and let her fingers touch his where they rested on the table, just a slight graze where his arms were crossed. "What can you analyze about me?"

He seemed to be looking at her thoughtfully for a moment, as if putting pieces together in his mind. "I know you are a hard worker. You are above average intelligence, but you still worked hard to get to where you are and it hasn't been an easy road. You are a passionate person, and are motivated to create a safe place in the world. You feel compassion toward victims and want to make sure their stories are told. You're a dog person – golden retriever, I think, so I know you are a warm and friendly person. You move around a lot, going from small town to small town. That took a bit of thought. I know you've talked about how every town is alike, so I know you are frustrated, but still continue to move to small towns. The only explanation for this would be that you are afraid of something. When paired with your line of work and your discomfort around males, it's most likely stemming from some childhood trauma that you have."

The redness was gone from Claire's cheeks, replaced by a white sheet, with a hint of green. It was as if all the color had been drained out of her face. At some point she had withdrawn her hand, and both of them were in her lap as she sat in rapt horror listening to his analysis of her. Thirty years of her life, fifteen years of running from her past, and it had been discovered in little more than eight hours with this man, and torn down in thirty seconds.

"I think I need to head home now," she said quietly and stood up from her chair, the alcohol no longer having an effect on her. She slowly made her way out of the door, looking a bit shell shocked.

"You're an idiot," Morgan told Reid.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"All of it," JJ replied.

"She was hitting on you, man."

He blinked at them both. "How do you know?"

"I thought you were supposed to be able to analyze behavior?"

"But you can't see when a woman is into you?"

"I guess I haven't had much opportunity to study that," he said with a weak smile.

"Are you going to go after her?"

"What would I say?"

"How about, 'I'm sorry. For a genius, I'm an idiot. I didn't mean to bring up what is obviously a really traumatic past while you're trying to flirt with me.'"

It was as if a light bulb went off in his head, and he stood up so suddenly, the whole table moved away from him. His long legs made strides to follow behind her out the front door. He found her on the front porch, her cell phone illuminating her face. She seemed to be sniffling a little bit. She saw him and hurriedly wiped at her cheek.

"Hey," he said, pushing his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Sometimes I'm not too good with things, like talking to people."

"It's fine," she said. "It's not a big deal."

"It obviously is. As soon as I started talking, you froze up. I should have known from your facial expression and body language, but it didn't even register. Some behavior analyst…"

"Stop analyzing me."

He looked down at her. Her eyes and cheeks looked puffy. Her arms were crossed across her chest, and her body was turned slightly away from him, as if she wanted to run away.

"Let's just forget about it," she said with a sigh. "All of it."

"Does that mean you'll come back in and sit down?"

"No, I already requested an Uber."

"There's Uber out here?"

"Yea, it's just one guy."

"If there's just one, it will take a while for him to get here, right? I'll wait with you."

"It's really fine."

"OK," he said and put his hand in his pockets. "I don't know much about women, but I feel like saying, 'It's fine,' is just something you say when you're trying to get someone to leave."

"It means I just don't feel like talking. I just want to wait quietly."

"So you don't mind if I stay, then?"

She looked at him. Her face had a different array of emotions. "You can stay until the Uber gets here, if you insist."

"Good, good," he said and ran a hand through his hair.

"You remind me of my dog," she said suddenly.

"Thank you," he said, "I guess."

"Your hair is kinda the same color. And you both have big, brown, puppy dog eyes. You're both a little goofy, but loveable."

He smiled slightly at her. "And you can't stay mad at him for long."

"I'm not _mad_ at you." She sighed, turning slightly to face him. "I'm just confused."

"Were you flirting with me?"

Her cheeks got red again. "Maybe."

"Why?"

"_'Why_?'" she repeated back to him.

"I'm not used to women flirting with me, I guess."

"You're not like any man I've ever known before," she said. "All the men I've ever known or been familiar with… You're just not like them."

"In what way?"

"You're nice to me, and smart, and… I don't know. It's difficult to describe."

"Men haven't been nice to you?"

She looked at him, studying his face. "There you go again. You're trying to get inside my head."

"Sorry. I don't mean to. I'm just trying to get to know you."

"I do feel a sense of comfort with you… Like, safety, maybe? It sounds weird. I barely even know you. Maybe that's been my problem." She took a deep breath and let it out. "No, I haven't had the best _relationships_ with men in my life." It was a loaded statement. She knew he would be able to determine what she meant. She wouldn't even try to hide it from him. "It's part of the reason why I move around so much. I don't want to get close to anyone, or for anyone to know me."

"That's difficult to keep up forever."

She shrugged. "I know. But I can't seem to stop. My last therapist thought I may be close to settling down, but I can't find anywhere I'd like to."

"Well, not if you keep going to the same places, expecting things to be different." He looked at her, the way her dark hair fell in waves around her shoulders, the gray streaks that stood in stark contrast to the inky blackness of her hair. Her bright blues eyes looked up at him, far below his height. Did she want him to kiss her? No, it wasn't the right time at all, not the right place.

"Can we go back to your hotel room?"


	4. Chapter 4

Spencer opened the door and let Derek Morgan inside.

"Sorry, I'm running a little late," he said as he flipped his collar up and began tying his tie. He looked in the mirror, straightening the tie. He pulled a gray sweater vest over a pale pink button up.

"Hmmm," Morgan said as he looked around the room, poking his head in the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" Reid asked as he sat at the foot of the bed to pull his shoes on.

"Oh, just looking around. So, uh, you and Claire?"

Reid paused a bit as he tied the strings on his brown shoes. "What about me and Claire?"

"Just noticed some things," Morgan said. "Mainly, that you guys left together last night."

"We're two adults. We can do what we want."

"You're right, man. I'm happy for you. You don't normally go after women like that."

"Well, you usually go after them enough for both of us."

"Did everything go OK?" he quickly looked his partner over. "You don't seem as happy as I would expect."

Reid paused before slowly finishing tying his shoe. "Is it normal for a woman to not stay the whole night?" Reid said, looking up at him from his seat on the bed. "I mean, I woke up around 3 and she was gone. You know I'm not used to this, so I didn't know if this should be expected, or maybe she wasn't happy? I don't know."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it. Maybe she remembered something she needed to do at home. She didn't have a toothbrush, right? Or a change of clothes?"

"You're right, I'm just overthinking," he said as he ran a hand through his hair. "She has a dog, she probably just needed to make sure he was fed and alright."

"Yea, there you go, that makes sense," Derek said. "Everything else was good though?" he was pressing for more details, more guy talk.

"Nothing happened," Spencer said as he stood and put his watch on. "We just talked."

Derek watched him carefully. "OK, that's OK. That's good! Get to know each other."

"Let's just drop it. Let's go."

They met Hotch and JJ down in the parking lot and hopped in the SUV. JJ passed around a cardboard cup holder, allowing everyone to grab one of the to-go cups filled with coffee.

"Spence," JJ said as she watched him hurriedly buckle his seatbelt.

"Yea?"

"Good night?"

"Nothing happened," he said, clearing the air. "We just talked about some things."

"Talked? In your hotel room?"

"It's complicated," he said. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"But everything is alright?"

"It's fine." Truth was, he'd been in turmoil since he woke up, and she was gone. They'd taken her car back to his hotel, and her car was no longer in the parking lot when he checked at three am. He kept telling himself she'd just left to feed her dog, who he now knew was named Archie. But with everything going on, he felt uneasy knowing she was alone at night. He shook his head. He didn't make habits of getting emotionally involved in cases, but he felt different somehow. He knew he should keep his head in the game. He didn't even know her cell number to check on her.

She'd pretty much spilled her life story to him. She'd seemed uncomfortable talking about it and had told him that she hadn't told anyone those things before, outside of her therapists. He'd felt a rage building up inside of him while she'd recounted her life.

_"I don't know who my real dad was, but I doubt it would have made any difference. My mom was on drugs for as long as I've known, and her boyfriend – he later became my stepdad – was always there. He was on drugs too, but it seemed like it accelerated him, whereas she was always passed out. Made plenty of time where I was left alone with him. I can remember it even from when I was four years old… He would wait until she was passed out and he would sneak into my room. He told me if I said anything he would make me sorry. He already hit me, so I didn't really know what would be worse; I just didn't want to find out. I always knew when he would visit me, because my mom would be so happy when he came home with a lot of drugs, way happier than she ever was when she saw me. I knew she would be out for a while when that would happen…"_

He could feel his fist clenching and unclenching just thinking about it. His jaw tensed.

"Reid," Morgan said. "You sure you're OK?"

"It's fine," he repeated, but it sounded fake even to himself. She'd never reported the abuse, which she said continued until she ran away at 15. _Statute of limitations_¸ she'd said. He'd told her that sexual assault against minors didn't have a statute. She'd waved it away, as if it weren't a big deal.

They rode in silence to the county coroner's office. Hotch parked the SUV right beside Claire's car. Reid breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was in the parking lot, safe and sound.

"Good morning," Hotch greeted Claire as they walked through the office.

"Morning," she said, nodding to them in greeting. Morgan, Hotch, and JJ went ahead to the room they were using as central.

"Can we talk?" Reid asked her as he awkwardly shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet.

"Sure, we can go in my office," she said and led him through the main room and into a small room in the back. "Can I get you some coffee?"

He declined politely as he followed her into the tiny space that looked like it would better serve as a closet.

"I'm sorry about last night," she said as she closed the door behind him, the shades on the door's window still open. "I don't know why I told you all that. I know you're here with a job to do. You don't need to have to play therapist to some weirdo while you're here, you have enough to do."

"I was actually going to ask for your cell number," he said, clutching the shoulder strap of his messenger bag.

"Oh," she said, blinking at him several times. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. I mean, if that's OK?"

"Yea, yea. I just thought it might be a little fast."

"I woke up at three am and you weren't there. I had no way of contacting you to be sure you were safe or OK or if something were wrong. I need to get in touch with you if that happens again."

"I'm sorry about that too. I didn't want to leave Archie home alone all night."

"It's alright. You don't have to apologize. I just wanted to know you were safe."

She gave him the number and watched him put it in his phone. He sent her a text so she would have his number as well.

"You don't have to worry about me," she said as he began to head for the door. "I mean, you've only known me for 24 hours now. I'm not that important."

He looked at her for several seconds. "I think you are important. And you must think I'm important too, for you to tell me everything you did last night. I don't take that lightly."

"I'm still embarrassed. You're only the third person I've ever told."

"I'm grateful that you shared it with me." He stood awkwardly in front of her.

"Well, I guess you better get back to the team," she said after several minutes of them staring at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move to leave.

"You're probably right." Claire opened the door and he walked out, her walking a few steps behind him.

"Claire," said a male voice from across the room.

"Hi, Caleb," she said as a greeting. Spencer quickly sized the man up. He was slightly shorter than Spencer's height, but still probably around 5'11". His brown hair looked like it hadn't been brushed, or maybe he'd just been running his hands through it. He was lean enough that he looked like he could chase someone down in his police uniform, though it was probably just leftover muscle from playing football in high school.

"This is Dr. Spencer Reid," Claire said, gesturing to him. "He's here with the FBI helping with the recent sexual assaults. Spencer, this is Caleb, from the police department."

"Did something happen overnight?" Spencer asked.

"Oh, no," Claire said. "Or at least, not to my knowledge. I have to go do some welfare checks on some families that are under investigation for abuse or neglect. Some follow up type things. Someone from the force, usually Caleb, accompanies me on these visits. The families can be a little rough sometimes. It's nice to have some back up."

"I'm always happy to help," Caleb said. Spencer didn't think Claire noticed how he scanned her face and hair.

"I'll just grab a few things and we can head out," she said and popped back into her office.

"Is there anyone you can think of specifically that stands out as a particularly violent experience while you were out assisting Claire?" Spencer asked him, hoping to get a lead to go on.

"Not particularly," Caleb said, his hands coming together at his belt buckle. He stood very still, waiting quietly.

"The police department hasn't been especially interested in helping us. The faster we get this solved, with cooperation, the faster we can leave."

He seemed to shrug a bit. "We're investigating it internally."

"It really doesn't feel that way. A lot of the police reports I've read seem suggestive of the fact that the women were in some way asking for it. That doesn't seem like an unbiased investigation."

"Some of those women were cruising for male attention those nights. They'd been drinking. It's not the man's fault if the women changed their mind after drunk sex, felt embarrassed."

"The trauma inflicted doesn't fit with the general description of 'drunk sex'."

"Well, I guess that's your opinion, _doctor."_

Claire walked up then, a bag slung over her shoulder, her thick hair pulled into a pony tail that seemed to wave at them from the top of her head.

"Ready to go?"

"Yea, let's get moving."

"I'll see you later, Spencer?"

"Sure," Spencer said as he watched them walk out of the office. He went to rejoin the team.

"Who was that?" Morgan asked.

"That was Caleb, one of the police officers. Not the happiest to see us."

"I think I saw a police report from a 'Caleb,'" JJ said as she shuffled through some papers. "Did he say anything we may have overlooked?"

"He didn't seem in a mood for questioning. He told me the women had been drinking and chalked up their assault to drunk sex."

"Yes, here's the report," JJ said as she pulled a folder out of a stack. "The report he completed was on the last assault."

"The one Claire said was the most violent?"

"Yes, let's see what he said. 'Woman admitted to heavy drinking at Last Call a few hours previously. Spoke to several men, could not give any names or identifying information. Could not remember getting home. No signs of forced entry at either doorway.'"

"Doesn't sound like someone who is sympathetic to the victims," Reid said as he looked through a separate report. "If I can find one pattern emerging, it's that in all the police reports the victims are referred to as 'the woman,' and not 'the victim.' It's a very interesting tell on the overall bias of the reporters."

"The police don't see these as assaults. They are blaming the victims, trying to paint a scene that depicts them as loose females, as if they deserved it." Hotch looked at the chalkboard as Spencer taped a picture of one of the victims to the blackboard. "Today let's split up. Morgan and I will go see the first two victims. Reid and JJ, you two go to the last couple. Conduct some real interviews, investigate the scenes as best as we can. Let's see if we can't get the real story, compile some better evidence."

JJ and Reid hopped into a spare police car. It was old, and should probably have been out of commission, but the department had been willing to let them use it for the day. JJ drove while Reid looked out the window.

"I'll speak with the victims, you see if you can find anything on the scenes that may have been missed."

"OK," Reid said.

"Are you sure you're fine? You seem a little off."

"I'm just not used to this kind of stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Like, women stuff."

"Oh, Spence. It's OK. You'll learn fast."

"Should I call her? Or text her? We just saw each other. I don't want to be weird and clingy. What if she doesn't feel the same way?"

"Didn't you guys spend a lot of time talking last night? What was your feeling? You're a behavioral analyst with psychology and sociology degrees. You couldn't read her like a book?"

"I could tell some things, but not exactly how she was feeling." She'd seemed more relaxed when they'd gotten back to the hotel room. They'd sat on the end of the bed. She'd shakily recounted the horrors of her childhood, from her young, drug addicted mother to her sexually and physically abusive stepfather. By the end of it, she looked like she was a little lighter, like a weight had lifted off her shoulders.

_"Can I hold your hand?" she'd asked him tentatively. _

_ "Absolutely," he said, reaching his hand out a little too quickly. She placed her small, soft hand inside his. He gently closed his hand around her._

_ "It's been a long time since I've touched a man's hand before…"_

_ He watched her carefully, afraid if he spoke, he would say the wrong thing._

_ "You make me feel very comfortable. I appreciate your kindness and gentleness."_

_ "You deserve nothing less."_

They'd laid back on the bed then, holding hands while they each watched each other's faces carefully. Before he knew it, he'd fallen asleep.

"It looks like we're here," JJ said as they pulled onto a gravel driveway. They both got out of the car and slammed the doors closed.

"You can go on ahead," Reid said. "I have to make a phone call real quick."

JJ nodded silently before walking toward the front door, leaving him alone by the car.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. "Garcia, I need you to look up someone for me. And can we keep this between us?"


End file.
